


Control

by pickedaxe



Category: JUDGE EYES: 死神の遺言 | Judgment
Genre: Blow Jobs, Choking, Death Threats, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Office Sex, Sexual Coercion, Threats of Violence, foreplay with ice picks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:39:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20572094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickedaxe/pseuds/pickedaxe
Summary: ***SPOILERS for Judgment***Kuroiwa has Ayabe under his thumb, even if he doesn't know it yet.





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> This is dubcon but marked as noncon to be safe. Well, more like it could have been straight noncon but Ayabe loves rolling over and giving up, lmao. Also marked violence as there is some discussion of violent crime, though nothing happens to the characters directly. Mind the tags and be safe!! Enjoy!

“Where did you even get that?” Ayabe asked dubiously, eyes trained on the pick Kuroiwa was toying with. It turned and flitted through his hands like nothing could be more natural. The sun was setting and the office was empty, at least on Ayabe’s floor.

“Oh, at the bar of course.” Kuroiwa smiled at him, with teeth. As usual, it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“--Just kidding. Forensics was using it as a prop to show how the wounds were accomplished. They were nice enough to let me borrow it.”

_Why?_ was the first thing that sprang to mind, but Kuroiwa was a weird dude, and also one you didn’t cross without a good reason, so he kept his mouth shut and let him continue. 

“It’s an unusual weapon for a serial killer, isn’t it?” Kuroiwa moved to half sit against the corner of Ayabe’s desk, looking at the weapon thoughtfully. 

“Doesn’t seem like anything about that case is usual,” he said in his usual low monotone, trying to show how pissed he was about being forced to stay late AND make small talk with Kuroiwa of all people, but without actually challenging him. 

“You’re right.” Kuroiwa was rubbing the pick with the tips of his gloved fingers, now, looking down at Ayabe as he sat in his chair. 

“According to forensics, the pick entered the eye socket at this angle--”

In a flash, the very real, very sharp tip of the “prop” ice pick was hovering only a few centimeters away from Ayabe’s eye. 

“Hey--” he choked, instantly scooting back in surprise. 

Kuroiwa continued, unfazed, thankfully moving the pick away from him a moment later, letting Ayabe catch his breath. 

“--allowing the culprit to reach approximately 8 to 10 centimeters deep into brain tissue. Even at that entrance point, it would take someone reasonably strong to accomplish. The eyes go easy, of course, but it takes some force to drive it all the way back there.”

This was the most he’d seen Kuroiwa smile in months. Here was one guy who took way too much pleasure in his work. 

“So, what would be the point of expending so much effort? There are easier and faster ways.”

Kuroiwa stared down at him like a teacher expecting an answer from his student. 

“Um...Some kind of paraphilia?”

Kuroiwa half-laughed.

“That’s an interesting conclusion. You don’t agree that it’s being done as a warning?” 

Ayabe shrugged.

“If he _is_ Tojo, one’s just as likely as the other. But guess you’ll just have to catch the guy to find out.”

Ayabe rolled back up to his desk, shuffling a few papers around, trying to show Kuroiwa he was wrapping it up here. He didn’t take the hint. 

“We might be closer to an arrest than you think, Ayabe-kun.”

Ayabe gave a non-committal grunt. This conversation didn’t interest him, at least not as much as it did Kuroiwa. Besides, he had a drink and a customer waiting. He started to stand up. 

All of a sudden, Kuroiwa’s hand was in his hair. He had slid around to the front of the desk, pushing his way in between Ayabe and the edge. From that perspective, well. The half-hard erection Kuroiwa was sporting was a little hard to miss. 

“Hey, are you serious?” he spluttered, the only thing he gained from his effort to move back a hard tug to the scalp. 

“Nobody’s here. Quit complaining.”

“If someone walked in- ” Ayabe was fully aware of his status as a dirty cop, but it wasn’t supposed to be in that way. 

“Then get under the desk. I’ll keep an eye on the door.” 

It’s not as if the request came out of the blue. He’d let Kuroiwa fuck him once before. And then again. And again. The first time was what some would call a drunken mistake - after work drinks going just a little too far. But damn if the guy wasn’t bursting with stamina. There was no denying he was a good lay. That’s how he got talked into it a second time - he’d needed that stress relief. But the third time, he’d pulled him into an alleyway when they were out on duty, and that was when he remembered Kuroiwa just wasn’t a person you could say no to, even if you wanted to. 

Then Kuroiwa had ignored him for a while, and Ayabe was relieved that it was seemingly over. But he’d never really been a lucky guy. 

He tried again to pull back, but Kuroiwa’s grip was firm, and he’d introduced the ice pick from before into the mix, running the side against Ayabe’s throat. 

“C’mon-”

He scraped the pointed tip against Ayabe’s skin, making him flinch.

“Don’t make it difficult.”

“I’m not-”

The point dug against his throat, not quite breaking skin, but it did hurt. He was about to try to weasel out of it again, but then he made eye contact with Kuroiwa. His expression was off. His eyes were full of lust, behind that, detached interest, and behind that - 

\--He’d do it. The idea flashed through him instantly, making his stomach drop. Kuroiwa would drive the ice pick into his throat without a bit of remorse. It didn’t matter that they were in the middle of their own workplace, that there’d be literal buckets of evidence spurting everywhere. He didn’t think he could be caught, nor did he care. The thought was clear and absolute; he’d never been more sure in his instinct. He started to sweat, palms getting slick. He swallowed, his voice a little rougher than he would have liked as he spoke again. 

“...Fine. Let go, then.” He prayed Kuroiwa would actually let him do it. That he even had an option still. 

Rather than just let him go, Kuroiwa tugged him forward by the hair, causing him to fall onto the floor on his knees. Bastard. Kuroiwa moved around him and sank into the chair, legs spreading as Ayabe settled between them. 

Kuroiwa made no move to unzip, so Ayabe reached a hand up. He pushed his sudden queasiness down. He could deal with what it all meant later. The goal right now was to get it over as quickly as possible so he could go get drunk and pretend it hadn’t happened. Kuroiwa gripped his wrist before he could get to the button, forcing him to feel the bulge in his pants.

“Too bad we’re short on time today… I’m sure you can’t wait to feel this inside you again.”

He forced Ayabe to stroke him a few times through his clothes, but let go after a few moments. 

“Then again, I’ve been wondering what your mouth is like.” 

Trying to ignore him, Ayabe worked at the button and zipper, freeing Kuroiwa’s cock. Damn him for being as big as he was. 

It’d been a while since he’d done this. He hoped it was like riding a bike. He gripped the base, giving him a few pumps before gingerly sliding his tongue beneath the tip. 

“_Now_ we’re eager.”

If he would just shut the fuck up for a moment, he could pretend he was blowing the hot guy from that AV he jacked off to the other night, not the guy who just maybe-seriously threatened to kill him. 

He took him in fully then, bobbing his head with faux-enthusiasm. He was too big to take all the way. He could hear Kuroiwa groan above him, though, between Ayabe’s own gasps of breath, so it must have been enough. 

“Haha… you’re a natural,” Kuroiwa groaned out, head tilting back appreciatively. 

He was still trying to tune him out. He didn’t slow down, even though he could feel his jaw starting to get sore. He could feel Kuroiwa starting to twitch in his mouth. He had to be close. Just a little more--

“Y’know, your hair makes you look like a total slob.”

Kuroiwa gripped his messy locks again, forcing Ayabe to slide further down his cock, gagging him. 

“But… it is kind of cute.”

He lost what little control he’d had in the first place, Kuroiwa gripping at his jaw with his other hand to facefuck him. 

“Ahh…”

Kuroiwa finally stopped chatting, seemingly focused on his nearing orgasm. Ayabe would have been grateful if it wasn’t for the fact that every thrust was hitting the back of his throat, making him gurgle and choke, tempting his gag reflex. 

Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, Kuroiwa forced one final thrust into his mouth, holding him there as he came down his throat. He struggled, choking, but Kuroiwa just wouldn’t let go, not until he was totally finished. At last, he allowed Ayabe to fall back, watching him collapse on the floor as he coughed and spat up what he could into his hand, eyes watering so hard he could barely see. 

“Hey, don’t make a mess.”

Vaguely, he heard Kuroiwa zip up and walk away. By the time he came back, Ayabe’s coughing had calmed down enough for him to grab a few tissues from the box Kuroiwa threw down beside him. Shit… he’d got some on his shirt… And on the carpet. He wiped at the areas the best he could with the tissues, trying to make himself presentable enough to at least make it home to change. 

“That was good. Don’t mouth off next time, and I’ll get you off too.”

He looked up at Kuroiwa as he wiped the last bit of moisture off of his face. He’d felt pathetic around him before, of course, but this was kind of a new low. He was pissed, but the unsettling truth of what had just happened finally started washing over him. ...Maybe he’d tell his client he’d have to reschedule. 

“Well, good work today. See you tomorrow.” Kuroiwa had settled back into his usual mild office demeanor, giving him a little half wave as he left him alone in the office. Ayabe finally sat up. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling inside as he finished cleaning up, making sure there would be no trace of what had happened come tomorrow morning. Of course, Kuroiwa would know. Kuroiwa would hold it over his head, he had no doubt. ...Maybe he’d call off work tomorrow, too.


End file.
